


Underneath it All

by ShadowsOffense



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/F, Phobias, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 13:48:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1094621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowsOffense/pseuds/ShadowsOffense
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The only thing she has to fear is...  Really, Isabela thinks that is a rubbish saying.  Fear is good, fear keeps her sharp.  Isabela can feel it, use it, or face it down as needed.  She owns her fear (but sometimes, in the dark, fear owns her and Hawke is a bit too fond of adventuring underground).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Underneath it All

Isabela is suffocating, the air slowly being squeezed from her lungs as an immeasurable weight of stone presses her into the rock below. She wakes in a panic, a limp body, hot and heavy, trapping her against the ground and she gropes desperately for a dagger. There is a hitched whistle in the breathing in Isabela’s ear and it somehow penetrates the fog of her mind.

“Hawke,” Isabela tries to push against the woman’s shoulder, but she might as well have been trying to move the mountain over their heads. “Hawke! _Move._ ” 

“’Bela?” Hawke’s voice is bleary. 

“For Andraste’s sake, Hawke, move!” Isabela hates the way her voice shakes and she has to fight the urge to bite, claw, and scratch her way free.

The darkness is complete; Isabela can’t see Hawke’s face, but she hears the sharp breath and knows the look that accompanies it. Hands. Slim, lightly calloused hands, more familiar to her than even her own, yet she can’t help but flinch away from them now as they press against her skin. Then the world twists sharply as Hawke rolls them over and Isabela is on top, which is... exactly where she likes to be. So there is no reason to run anymore. 

She wants to anyway.

Her hands find Hawke’s shoulders and for a moment she’s unsure if she’s pushing Hawke down or herself up and away. She freezes between the two, holding herself suspended, over Hawke, between fleeing and staying. She can still feel the cave and the stone surrounding her, it is, and a body pressing her to the dirt, it isn’t.

“’Bela, it’s alright.” Hawke’s voice helps calm the beating of her heart. Isabela wishes that she could _see_ Hawke’s eyes, more grey than blue, like an ocean storm, giving her something to which she can cling. But the voice grounds her.

“You weigh too much sweet thing,” she says, smiling shakily in the dark.

“I know, I’m sorry.” Hawke lets her keep her pride. Because Hawke does know.

Isabela sighs and bends her head, resting it on her lover’s sternum. She hates it, these blasted caves, Hawke and the way her feelings tie her to the woman. Isabela hates herself. The way the panic can still seize her, even when she’s made up her mind that it won’t. The way reason can abandon her and there is nothing left but the urge to flee.

She hates being trapped, by anything. Hates that she has been trapped and might be again, despite anything.

Under her, Hawke breathes. Her chest rises and falls. And rises. Again. The ocean echoes in the rhythm of her lungs, the air that stirs Isabela’s hair, and she kisses Hawke’s skin to taste the salt. Hawke brings her hands to rest on Isabela’s waist with only a slight fumble in the dark and this time Isabela feels nothing but welcome.

The truth is, Hawke makes her feel more free than anything else ever has before.

It scares her, but of all the things she could be trapped under, her own fear will not be one of them. Not with Hawke. And not with this stupid, treasure-hiding, pile of rocks.


End file.
